Ohhh, Alabama. The Heart of Dixie.
I was born in Huntsville, Alabama and lived in Madison, Alabama until I was nine and a half years old. I still call myself a Southerner, rather than a Midwesterner... proudly, I must admit. I don't care about what people say about the South and its inhabitants being redneck, idiot hicks. I went to excellent schools and was actually ahead of the class in Iowa when we moved to Cedar Rapids in the middle of my fourth grade year. I was not raised as an ignorant farmer's daughter. And I probably had better manners than practically everyone in my new school combined, excluding my brother.
... Not that you'd be able to tell by my actually saying that, of course.
But anyway, that's an exaggeration.
......
Looking back, I really enjoyed the portion of my childhood that was spent in Madison. Dance classes, swim team, softball... basketball and soccer for a couple years, too. Swimming at gramma and papa's house [they also lived in Madison before moving down to the gulf]. Going back and forth to grandmother and grandaddy's house in Columbus, Georgia. Riding my bike up to Kid's Kingdom with my brother. Making up dances and practicing tumbling moves in our backyard with my sister. Sledding down an icy driveway when we got half an inch of snow and school let out... ha! I could go on and on.
I love and appreciate any time I get to spend in Alabama [or the southern states in general]. It's true what they say about southern hospitality and that comfort, or warmness, that so very many people exude. I wish I had lived there for a longer period of time. While I feel that I don't seem to be able to recall an awful lot from time spent there, some of my most precious memories are rooted in experiences in Alabama, as well as Columbus.
Okay, and I simply must mention that one thing I love about Alabama is that it's home to the AUBURN TIGERS! Ahem, the 2010 BCS national champions... A lot of my family attended Auburn, including my parents. Well. And my sister, for a year and a half.
... Now, Alabama is a place I would live in the future.
Them redneck cotton farmers need some Jesus, too, y'all!
April 30, 2011
April 25, 2011
Ch. 792 - The List: Moberly
Moberly.
Moberly, Missouri.
"The Magic City".
It was given this nickname back in the railroad days. Once the railroad was built through the area, it was quite the place. Now? Not so much...
My school, Central Christian College of the Bible, is located in Moberly.
I have lived in Moberly while at school for three years.
And while it's not exactly that magic city it once was, there is something I do... like [love is too strong here]... about Moberly. I can't exactly place my finger on what thing something is, though. Really, it's more of a combination of things.
Like Santa Fe, the best Mexican restaurant in town.
And my secret spot at Rothwell Park.
And the train tracks south of Moberly.
And the path I run on the most.
And the ghetto, rundown movie theater... baaahahaha.
And the haunted antique shop located downtown.
And the numerous country roads surrounding the area.
Moberly really isn't all that bad.
There's not a lot provided "to do".
But if you know how to come up with ways to entertain yourself, then you're set. Not to mention we've got Columbia a short drive away... that helps. :)
As with Iowa, I wouldn't choose to live in Moberly in the future. There's just not much it has to offer. However, it is certain that the town is somewhat in the dark in regards to the Kingdom of God and the love of Christ. And it's too bad that the community seems to have a bad perception of CCCB. Yet honestly, I don't blame them. But that's another post for another day.
Moberly.
The Magic City?
... Again, perhaps not so much.
But it has been good to me for the most part, I suppose!
Moberly, Missouri.
"The Magic City".
It was given this nickname back in the railroad days. Once the railroad was built through the area, it was quite the place. Now? Not so much...
My school, Central Christian College of the Bible, is located in Moberly.
I have lived in Moberly while at school for three years.
And while it's not exactly that magic city it once was, there is something I do... like [love is too strong here]... about Moberly. I can't exactly place my finger on what thing something is, though. Really, it's more of a combination of things.
Like Santa Fe, the best Mexican restaurant in town.
And my secret spot at Rothwell Park.
And the train tracks south of Moberly.
And the path I run on the most.
And the ghetto, rundown movie theater... baaahahaha.
And the haunted antique shop located downtown.
And the numerous country roads surrounding the area.
Moberly really isn't all that bad.
There's not a lot provided "to do".
But if you know how to come up with ways to entertain yourself, then you're set. Not to mention we've got Columbia a short drive away... that helps. :)
As with Iowa, I wouldn't choose to live in Moberly in the future. There's just not much it has to offer. However, it is certain that the town is somewhat in the dark in regards to the Kingdom of God and the love of Christ. And it's too bad that the community seems to have a bad perception of CCCB. Yet honestly, I don't blame them. But that's another post for another day.
Moberly.
The Magic City?
... Again, perhaps not so much.
But it has been good to me for the most part, I suppose!
April 20, 2011
Ch. 791 - The List: Utah
I wonder how many times I've written, thought, or said the following:
"I miss Utah."
Sigh.
It is true.
So very true.
I loved being in Utah for my first year of school at the University of Utah, in Salt Lake City. I loved the campus, the groups I was a part of, the people I met and became friends with. I loved the city, the weather [yes, even the snow now and then], and the adventures I had.
I particularly enjoyed the experiences I had with the Mormon students, which probably make up about half of the student population. For example: My roommate tried to convert me [to Mormonism]... and when she realized that I wouldn't, she finally gave up and moved out because she "couldn't handle living with someone who wasn't Mormon." HA! She also played the accordion... and not very well, unfortunately.
But yes, overall I enjoyed my time in Utah.
It is such a beautiful place.
And I learned an awful lot about a variety of things.
One of the most surprising things I learned was what it can be like to grow up as a non-Mormon in a heavily Mormon-populated area. You move into a dominantly Mormon neighborhood? Be prepared for your kids to not make any friends with the neighbor kids. I realize that this probably isn't the case with most "Mormon neighborhoods". But about a handful of people I was friends went through that problem. And I have heard a number of other 'exclusion' stories going along the same lines. It's just... sad. Having heard about those kinds of things made me think about moving back to Utah and doing something with YoungLife or WyldLife, or starting a new youth ministry of sorts.
Hm. I just really want people to know the true Jesus Christ, and come to realize the importance of the Bible as the sole authority - God's word. As much as I'd love to get back to Utah one day, it doesn't truly matter. Just so long as I'm doing these things and obeying God.
"I miss Utah."
Sigh.
It is true.
So very true.
I loved being in Utah for my first year of school at the University of Utah, in Salt Lake City. I loved the campus, the groups I was a part of, the people I met and became friends with. I loved the city, the weather [yes, even the snow now and then], and the adventures I had.
I particularly enjoyed the experiences I had with the Mormon students, which probably make up about half of the student population. For example: My roommate tried to convert me [to Mormonism]... and when she realized that I wouldn't, she finally gave up and moved out because she "couldn't handle living with someone who wasn't Mormon." HA! She also played the accordion... and not very well, unfortunately.
But yes, overall I enjoyed my time in Utah.
It is such a beautiful place.
And I learned an awful lot about a variety of things.
One of the most surprising things I learned was what it can be like to grow up as a non-Mormon in a heavily Mormon-populated area. You move into a dominantly Mormon neighborhood? Be prepared for your kids to not make any friends with the neighbor kids. I realize that this probably isn't the case with most "Mormon neighborhoods". But about a handful of people I was friends went through that problem. And I have heard a number of other 'exclusion' stories going along the same lines. It's just... sad. Having heard about those kinds of things made me think about moving back to Utah and doing something with YoungLife or WyldLife, or starting a new youth ministry of sorts.
Hm. I just really want people to know the true Jesus Christ, and come to realize the importance of the Bible as the sole authority - God's word. As much as I'd love to get back to Utah one day, it doesn't truly matter. Just so long as I'm doing these things and obeying God.
April 15, 2011
Ch. 790 - The List: Iowa
I would say a lot of people know the following exchange:
"... Is this heaven?"
"No, it's Iowa."
If you don't know it, the lines come from the movie Field of Dreams, which takes place in Iowa. Dyersville, mostly, and yes - I have been there. It is not the most exciting place on earth. But yes, I have been there and ran the bases of the baseball field and wandered a few steps into the fields of corn that Iowa is, well, "famous" for.
Hm.
Corn.
Corn, and pigs.
Oh, and soybeans.
These are the things Iowa is known for.
And here in Cedar Rapids, the Quaker Oats factory.
Also, down the street from where my parents live is Brucemore, a "castle of America", whose residents owned one of the MGM lions. Fascinating.
Iowa.
... I thank the good Lord that I was born in Alabama and raised there for the first ten years of my life before my parents moved us to Cedar Rapids, Iowa - not gonna lie.
There are a number of reasons as to why.
But I think one of the main ones is that I like having experienced living in two [very] different places before heading off to college. America, a melting pot? Or, as some have come to see it, a stew? Indeed.
Iowa is not the worst place to grow up or live.
... Really, it's not.
I mean, as with every place, it has both good and bad qualities.
And over time, I have come to see the beauty of Iowa.
The rolling hills, covered with rows and rows of plants in the summer.
The deciduous trees, turning brilliant hues of gold and rust and ruby.
The ground and foliage and cars and houses and mailboxes dusted with snow.
And the smell of the damp earth in the spring, the rivers churning with melt-off.
Generic?
Perhaps.
Familiar?
Certainly.
I appreciate these things more than I used to.
Would I choose to live here, though?
No.
I just... couldn't.
I think I partly fear becoming like the people here. These... midwesterners. Iowans. Cedar Rapidians. Whatever they are... I do not like it. I know that I have been affected by them in small ways, both good and bad. For example, my manners slack when I am with friends here. The "yes/no ma'am"s and "yes/no sir"s tend to be left at home. There's a story that goes with that, though:
In my seventh grade social studies class, I had a great teacher. Mr. Schile. He was fun, and made learning really enjoyable. Anyway, one day, he asked me a question and I replied with, "No sir." He squinted his eyes at me, cocked his head to the side, and said, "Now, don't you get smart with me, young lady." He was not being sarcastic or anything. My eyes widened and my cheeks grew warm as I shook my head slightly. I had not intended to 'get smart' with Mr. Schile. I was simply answering his question the way I had been raised to. I then lowered my head and hunched up my shoulders. I think my reaction tipped him off about my use of 'sir', and he later apologized. And one way Iowa has affected me in a good way is that I have developed a good work ethic, when I put my mind to doing something. I can be lazy, that is for sure, but I can also be the hardest worker you know, when it comes down to it, whatever 'it' may be.
So.
Iowa.
There's a lot more I could say.
It's 'home' for now, I suppose.
It does alright.
"... Is this heaven?"
"No, it's Iowa."
If you don't know it, the lines come from the movie Field of Dreams, which takes place in Iowa. Dyersville, mostly, and yes - I have been there. It is not the most exciting place on earth. But yes, I have been there and ran the bases of the baseball field and wandered a few steps into the fields of corn that Iowa is, well, "famous" for.
Hm.
Corn.
Corn, and pigs.
Oh, and soybeans.
These are the things Iowa is known for.
And here in Cedar Rapids, the Quaker Oats factory.
Also, down the street from where my parents live is Brucemore, a "castle of America", whose residents owned one of the MGM lions. Fascinating.
Iowa.
... I thank the good Lord that I was born in Alabama and raised there for the first ten years of my life before my parents moved us to Cedar Rapids, Iowa - not gonna lie.
There are a number of reasons as to why.
But I think one of the main ones is that I like having experienced living in two [very] different places before heading off to college. America, a melting pot? Or, as some have come to see it, a stew? Indeed.
Iowa is not the worst place to grow up or live.
... Really, it's not.
I mean, as with every place, it has both good and bad qualities.
And over time, I have come to see the beauty of Iowa.
The rolling hills, covered with rows and rows of plants in the summer.
The deciduous trees, turning brilliant hues of gold and rust and ruby.
The ground and foliage and cars and houses and mailboxes dusted with snow.
And the smell of the damp earth in the spring, the rivers churning with melt-off.
Generic?
Perhaps.
Familiar?
Certainly.
I appreciate these things more than I used to.
Would I choose to live here, though?
No.
I just... couldn't.
I think I partly fear becoming like the people here. These... midwesterners. Iowans. Cedar Rapidians. Whatever they are... I do not like it. I know that I have been affected by them in small ways, both good and bad. For example, my manners slack when I am with friends here. The "yes/no ma'am"s and "yes/no sir"s tend to be left at home. There's a story that goes with that, though:
In my seventh grade social studies class, I had a great teacher. Mr. Schile. He was fun, and made learning really enjoyable. Anyway, one day, he asked me a question and I replied with, "No sir." He squinted his eyes at me, cocked his head to the side, and said, "Now, don't you get smart with me, young lady." He was not being sarcastic or anything. My eyes widened and my cheeks grew warm as I shook my head slightly. I had not intended to 'get smart' with Mr. Schile. I was simply answering his question the way I had been raised to. I then lowered my head and hunched up my shoulders. I think my reaction tipped him off about my use of 'sir', and he later apologized. And one way Iowa has affected me in a good way is that I have developed a good work ethic, when I put my mind to doing something. I can be lazy, that is for sure, but I can also be the hardest worker you know, when it comes down to it, whatever 'it' may be.
So.
Iowa.
There's a lot more I could say.
It's 'home' for now, I suppose.
It does alright.
April 10, 2011
Ch. 789 - The List: Home
"Home is where the heart is."
Mmm... yes.
But we've all heard that before.
How about the following:
"Home is not where you live, but where they understand you."
I like this.
But I'd like it even more if it was, "... but where you understand them."
I feel that as I grow older, I find being understood less important than understanding others. Perhaps this is because I desire to be in ministry. I'm not sure, really. But if my heart is in understanding people so that I can help them and disciple them... then I suppose that, indeed, my home is there among those people.
I think I find home being where my heart is in regards to those dearest to me, my family, less important these days because I do know that they love me - and they know [I hope!] that I love them. I will always "be there" for my family, and I know they will be there for me as well. That will never change. But I'm lucky. Fortunate. Blessed. For not everyone has what I do. Not everyone in this world has a family that loves them, or a family that they can love. What a heartbreaking thought. Oh, how I desire to love people so that they may simply know that they matter. And I want people to feel "at home" - whatever that feels like for them - when they're with me. I think that's one of the greatest desires of my heart.
Hm.
I don't know.
I feel like 'where' home is does not matter.
I can make a place home wherever I may be.
But I think that if I am not vested in something within that place... well, then it is simply just that: another 'place'.
Mmm... yes.
But we've all heard that before.
How about the following:
"Home is not where you live, but where they understand you."
I like this.
But I'd like it even more if it was, "... but where you understand them."
I feel that as I grow older, I find being understood less important than understanding others. Perhaps this is because I desire to be in ministry. I'm not sure, really. But if my heart is in understanding people so that I can help them and disciple them... then I suppose that, indeed, my home is there among those people.
I think I find home being where my heart is in regards to those dearest to me, my family, less important these days because I do know that they love me - and they know [I hope!] that I love them. I will always "be there" for my family, and I know they will be there for me as well. That will never change. But I'm lucky. Fortunate. Blessed. For not everyone has what I do. Not everyone in this world has a family that loves them, or a family that they can love. What a heartbreaking thought. Oh, how I desire to love people so that they may simply know that they matter. And I want people to feel "at home" - whatever that feels like for them - when they're with me. I think that's one of the greatest desires of my heart.
Hm.
I don't know.
I feel like 'where' home is does not matter.
I can make a place home wherever I may be.
But I think that if I am not vested in something within that place... well, then it is simply just that: another 'place'.
April 5, 2011
Ch. 788 - The List: Students
Whether you like it or not, you are currently a student.
You just may not realize that you are.
Choose your teacher(s) wisely.
I've chosen the greatest Teacher one could choose.
Man oh man have I learned a lot from Him.
And yet there is always something new to learn.
I'm glad that I recognize this.
I will never stop learning.
Nor do I believe that I will ever stop desiring to learn.
Which is good.
You just may not realize that you are.
Choose your teacher(s) wisely.
I've chosen the greatest Teacher one could choose.
Man oh man have I learned a lot from Him.
And yet there is always something new to learn.
I'm glad that I recognize this.
I will never stop learning.
Nor do I believe that I will ever stop desiring to learn.
Which is good.
April 1, 2011
Ch. 787 - The List: Teachers
787.
'Airplane!'
That's what first pops into my head, thanks to my Boeing-/Rockwell Collins-employed father. Love you, dad - and, since I know you'll probably read this during a lunch break one day... I hope you're having a great day and that the rest of your afternoon goes well!
......
Ahem.
Well.
Teachers.
I could say an awful lot about teachers.
Talk about the "good" ones I've had.
And, naturally, talk about the "not-so-good" teachers, too.
I could say that, on one hand, they may seem unnecessary.
Then mention how, on the other hand, they are invaluable.
I am unable to say who I consider my first "teacher" was.
Preschool? Nah, don't remember a thing!
Kindergarten?
Hm. Mrs. Owen.
I remember that Clay Warden brought grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch. And that I counted to more than 100 when I was only supposed to show that I could count to 100. And that we looked for evidence of leprechauns in a special room on St. Pat's Day. And that I was an excellent reader. And that there was another Natalie in my class, whose birthday was also on May 10. But she had brown hair and blue eyes, so she wasn't cool enough to be in the "Brown Hair, Brown Eyes Club" with me, my mom, and my grandmother. But do I remember anything about Mrs. Owen? No. Apparently she was from Great Britain and spoke with an accent. You would think I'd remember this, but nope!
First grade.
Mrs. Foster.
She made Christmas ornaments for us. I still have mine. She was really nice. Everybody wanted to have Mrs. Foster as a teacher. In first grade there was a kid in my class named Matthew Ramey. Such a cute kid. Sweet boy. But he was sick... a lot. He unfortunately had developed a brain tumor. That was really rough on me, and I'm sure on a lot of my peers. Mrs. Foster handled the situation with patience and compassion, trying to answer our innocent, tough questions the best she could. I wasn't the best of friends with Matthew, but sometimes I still think about him.
Second grade.
Mrs. Turner.
Don't remember anything about second grade, or Mrs. Turner - except that nobody wanted to have her as a teacher because they thought she was mean and strict. That wasn't the case, she was simply firm and knew how to get kids to behave. Props to her, really. Oh, wait! Her room was super colorful. Double props.
Third grade.
Mrs. Everett.
Portable year, stuck in a trailer outside. I liked to play the game 'LIFE' during indoor recess when it was raining. A drawing of mine was selected to be posted on a billboard to advertise for an arts festival. Long division became my worst enemy. But again, I don't remember much about Mrs. Everett herself.
Fourth grade, first half.
Mrs. Green.
All the girls in my class seemed to have become boy-crazy over the summer. That's all I remember. Then over Thanksgiving week, my family moved to Iowa. That's when things seemed to change, memory-wise. I seem to be able to remember a lot more starting when we moved.
Fourth grade, second half.
Ms. Wendt.
If it hadn't been for her, I probably would have tried to talk my mom into homeschooling me the next year. Scarred for life, lemme tell ya... I exaggerate, of course, but seriously... Now, while most of the kids were jerks and totally sucked [I'm pretty eloquent, eh?], Ms. Wendt made up for the fact and then some. She was pretty and sweet and caring, and put on classical music while we worked. She wanted each student to rise to their potential and recognize their abilities and gifts. She was simply great.
I'm not going to continue. That would take seemingly forever and a day.
But suffice it to say that it's interesting to think about your past teachers and see what you remember about them [good or bad]. I can't say that I've ever had a truly "BAD" teacher. Some I was never too crazy about. And others, well... others, I still can't determine whether they actually knew what they were doing or talking about most of the time. But I know that I at least learned one thing from each. And to me, if I learn even just one thing, I think people succeed as teachers in one way or another.
I think it's great that 'all kinds' of people are teachers. Because people are so different! And they learn in 'all kinds' of different ways! People aren't stopped from being teachers. If you want to teach, and you take all the necessary preparations and steps in order to become a teacher... you can teach. Unlike Air Force pilots, you don't have to have perfect eyesight. Unlike doctors, you don't have to go to school for a gazillion years and do your 'residency' at an educational institution. Student teaching doesn't count... Granted, there may be some restrictions. I mean, you can't float through college with only one general education science requirement and expect to be hired as the new AP chemistry teacher in a high school. Well okay, you could expect that... but that means you should also expect to be disappointed when it doesn't happen. But in all honesty, I feel that if you set goals for yourself, work hard, and truly have a passion for that which you desire to do... and actually receive the training and instruction needed for what you're working toward... there's no reason that you won't eventually be successful. Especially in the work of teaching. If you care at all about education and people and helping others... whether that looks like being a Sunday school teacher, a preschool teacher, or a college professor... teaching could surely be the way to go for you. People are so impacted by their teachers. Man alive! Without teachers, where would we be? It's a hard profession, a difficult thing to do. I feel that it's oftentimes thankless, taken for granted, and way too low-paying...
Kind of like parenting, eh?
'Airplane!'
That's what first pops into my head, thanks to my Boeing-/Rockwell Collins-employed father. Love you, dad - and, since I know you'll probably read this during a lunch break one day... I hope you're having a great day and that the rest of your afternoon goes well!
......
Ahem.
Well.
Teachers.
I could say an awful lot about teachers.
Talk about the "good" ones I've had.
And, naturally, talk about the "not-so-good" teachers, too.
I could say that, on one hand, they may seem unnecessary.
Then mention how, on the other hand, they are invaluable.
I am unable to say who I consider my first "teacher" was.
Preschool? Nah, don't remember a thing!
Kindergarten?
Hm. Mrs. Owen.
I remember that Clay Warden brought grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch. And that I counted to more than 100 when I was only supposed to show that I could count to 100. And that we looked for evidence of leprechauns in a special room on St. Pat's Day. And that I was an excellent reader. And that there was another Natalie in my class, whose birthday was also on May 10. But she had brown hair and blue eyes, so she wasn't cool enough to be in the "Brown Hair, Brown Eyes Club" with me, my mom, and my grandmother. But do I remember anything about Mrs. Owen? No. Apparently she was from Great Britain and spoke with an accent. You would think I'd remember this, but nope!
First grade.
Mrs. Foster.
She made Christmas ornaments for us. I still have mine. She was really nice. Everybody wanted to have Mrs. Foster as a teacher. In first grade there was a kid in my class named Matthew Ramey. Such a cute kid. Sweet boy. But he was sick... a lot. He unfortunately had developed a brain tumor. That was really rough on me, and I'm sure on a lot of my peers. Mrs. Foster handled the situation with patience and compassion, trying to answer our innocent, tough questions the best she could. I wasn't the best of friends with Matthew, but sometimes I still think about him.
Second grade.
Mrs. Turner.
Don't remember anything about second grade, or Mrs. Turner - except that nobody wanted to have her as a teacher because they thought she was mean and strict. That wasn't the case, she was simply firm and knew how to get kids to behave. Props to her, really. Oh, wait! Her room was super colorful. Double props.
Third grade.
Mrs. Everett.
Portable year, stuck in a trailer outside. I liked to play the game 'LIFE' during indoor recess when it was raining. A drawing of mine was selected to be posted on a billboard to advertise for an arts festival. Long division became my worst enemy. But again, I don't remember much about Mrs. Everett herself.
Fourth grade, first half.
Mrs. Green.
All the girls in my class seemed to have become boy-crazy over the summer. That's all I remember. Then over Thanksgiving week, my family moved to Iowa. That's when things seemed to change, memory-wise. I seem to be able to remember a lot more starting when we moved.
Fourth grade, second half.
Ms. Wendt.
If it hadn't been for her, I probably would have tried to talk my mom into homeschooling me the next year. Scarred for life, lemme tell ya... I exaggerate, of course, but seriously... Now, while most of the kids were jerks and totally sucked [I'm pretty eloquent, eh?], Ms. Wendt made up for the fact and then some. She was pretty and sweet and caring, and put on classical music while we worked. She wanted each student to rise to their potential and recognize their abilities and gifts. She was simply great.
I'm not going to continue. That would take seemingly forever and a day.
But suffice it to say that it's interesting to think about your past teachers and see what you remember about them [good or bad]. I can't say that I've ever had a truly "BAD" teacher. Some I was never too crazy about. And others, well... others, I still can't determine whether they actually knew what they were doing or talking about most of the time. But I know that I at least learned one thing from each. And to me, if I learn even just one thing, I think people succeed as teachers in one way or another.
I think it's great that 'all kinds' of people are teachers. Because people are so different! And they learn in 'all kinds' of different ways! People aren't stopped from being teachers. If you want to teach, and you take all the necessary preparations and steps in order to become a teacher... you can teach. Unlike Air Force pilots, you don't have to have perfect eyesight. Unlike doctors, you don't have to go to school for a gazillion years and do your 'residency' at an educational institution. Student teaching doesn't count... Granted, there may be some restrictions. I mean, you can't float through college with only one general education science requirement and expect to be hired as the new AP chemistry teacher in a high school. Well okay, you could expect that... but that means you should also expect to be disappointed when it doesn't happen. But in all honesty, I feel that if you set goals for yourself, work hard, and truly have a passion for that which you desire to do... and actually receive the training and instruction needed for what you're working toward... there's no reason that you won't eventually be successful. Especially in the work of teaching. If you care at all about education and people and helping others... whether that looks like being a Sunday school teacher, a preschool teacher, or a college professor... teaching could surely be the way to go for you. People are so impacted by their teachers. Man alive! Without teachers, where would we be? It's a hard profession, a difficult thing to do. I feel that it's oftentimes thankless, taken for granted, and way too low-paying...
Kind of like parenting, eh?
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